


Something's Gotta Give

by Jennifer C (JendaZZ)



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Angst, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-17
Updated: 2010-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-09 23:09:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7820833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JendaZZ/pseuds/Jennifer%20C
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starsky wants something. Will Hutch give it to him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something's Gotta Give

**Author's Note:**

> by Jennifer C.
> 
> Note from the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Dave & Ken's Diner](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Dave_%26_Ken%27s_Diner), which experienced a drop in traffic to low levels following the opening of the official Starsky & Hutch archive. Still wanting to preserve the archive, Open Doors began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. An announcement was posted to OTW media channels, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact the archivist using the e-mail address on [ Dave and Ken's Diner collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/daveandkensdiner/profile).

 

_God, what was Hutch doing?_

His partner pulled, hard, and Starsky felt the small bones in his wrist pop in protest. Formless words buzzed past his ears as Hutch dragged him along through the crowded bar toward the back. At first, he'd resisted. But Hutch had turned on him then, giving him a glare that in so many words meant _follow me or else_. So, Starsky followed, picking up on the crowd's mood as the people who noticed them sensed something explosive was about to happen.

Hutch slammed the back door open and pulled again, letting him go, trying to fling Starsky forward.

Starsky halted his momentum, straightened his jacket, and took a few cocky steps before slowly turning around to face his partner. A little manhandling was okay, but he wasn't going to let Hutch command his every move. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed that, amazingly, no one had followed them. Still, Starsky didn't want any bold patron to suddenly appear. He met Hutch's eyes.

"Come with me," Starsky said casually.

"No, you'll come with me." Hutch brushed by him, his big, long strides taking him down the alley.

Starsky followed slowly. He would not let Hutch get the upper hand. They had a partnership after all. Both on the clock and off. Especially off. Though, Starsky admitted, this time he hadn't given Hutch a choice, which had to be the reason he was so angry. At least he appeared angry. Hard to tell with Hutch lately.

No, Starsky was pretty sure the fierce look he'd received when he had presented himself in the bar wasn't an act.

Finally, Hutch turned around a corner and Starsky quickened his pace to catch up. At this point, losing Hutch wasn't an option either. What he didn't expect, when he turned the corner himself, was for Hutch to be right there, waiting for him.

For the second time that night, his partner grabbed his wrist, this time pushing Starsky's back against the brick wall of the nearest building.

Hutch stepped in close, so close they were standing eye-to-eye and toe-to-toe. It was a quiet night and Starsky could hear their breathing, and feel the rise and fall of their chests almost in unison. Hutch's anger made him breathe just a bit faster.

It was temping to look around, to see where Hutch had led them, to make sure no one had followed them, that no one else was around, or, more importantly, to evaluate just how likely they were to remain alone. But the look in Hutch's eyes froze him and the feel of Hutch's body immobilized him. He ordered himself to relax, hoping Hutch would be aware enough to register that, hoping he would ease up. But Hutch leaned in closer, pressing nearer. Starsky didn't dare budge.

"You've been following me," Hutch said, finally.

Of course he had. "Yes."

"What is it you want?"

Starsky damn well knew they both were well aware of what Starsky wanted. The real question was would Hutch finally give it to him. So Starsky didn't answer, relying instead on their continued eye contact to do the talking for him.

"No. I don't think I deserve it. Not yet. Almost, but not quite yet…" Hutch's voice trailed off. He slowly released Starsky: his body, his wrist, and finally his eyes. 

Hutch lowered his head, turned, and left.

Starsky stood there, rubbing his wrist, his hard-on killing him in the tight confines of his washed-out jeans.

~*~*~*~

Damn Starsky. Damn him, and his eyes, and his ass. Especially his ass. Who the hell did he think he was? _Following me all the way down to Oceanside?_

_He thinks he's your partner and wants to be your partner in every way that matters and you know it._

_Yeah, well…_

Hutch reached up to retrieve the key to his apartment. Once inside, after removing his coat and gun and getting a beer, he retreated to his greenhouse, stretching his full length along the chaise. _Yeah well, then he'd better make sure he knows the consequences of what's about to happen between us. I'm not even sure I do. But I know I'm not going to be able to stop. Not when he thinks he wants it so bad._

_Not when I know I do._

Closing his eyes, he took a long drink and then rested the bottle against his belly. He hoped the beer would help depress the adrenalin he could still feel surging through his body. It had begun as a feeling of anticipation that, when his night had started, was comfortable and welcomed. A feeling that had skyrocketed almost out of control when he looked up and saw Starsky standing there. There, in a bar he had gone out of his way to find, the kind of place Hutch could go when he wanted a certain type of action. It was close enough to make the trip down and back in only a few hours. And far away enough that it was very unlikely anyone he knew would show up there.

Clearly, it wasn't far enough away from his partner.

His partner. Hutch took another deep breath. Why couldn't he just understand that Hutch wasn't interested in him like _that_.

_Probably 'cause he knows you're lying._

Hutch liked sex with men to be quick and anonymous. With Starsky it wouldn't be either.

At that moment, he thought he heard a knock on his door. It was hard to tell all the way in the greenhouse, but then he heard a voice call his name.

"Hutch."

He could barely hear it from the other side of the door.

Starsky had followed him home.

_If I don't answer, maybe he'll go away._

_But your car is outside, dummy._ _You **know** he won't go away._

_Well, he can let himself in. I'm not going to help._

Hutch sat there, unwilling to acknowledge the summons and open his front door. But he didn't make any move to stop Starsky from coming in either.

He just wasn't ready. Starsky might be ready or think he was ready, but Hutch wasn't. Maybe in another few years, if either of them lasted that long.

What was he talking about? Portends were usually Starsky's thing, but lately, he'd been getting a few himself, and he didn't like it. His feelings were unbalanced. He was afraid of tipping the wrong way and he was even more afraid of not finding Starsky waiting on whatever side he wound up on. What would he do then?

Finally, he heard the sound he was both hoping and dreading to hear—his front door opening. Then it closed and was locked.

What was he going to do now?

~*~*~*~

Starsky stared at his friend who he finally found in the corner of the darkened greenhouse. Leaning back against the chaise, Hutch was trying to look nonchalant and unconcerned, not even acknowledging Starsky's presence in the room. It seemed inaction was Hutch's method of the moment. That never sat well with Starsky.

"If you hold that bottle any harder, we'll end up in the emergency room with all the other screaming children to get stitches," Starsky said.

He could just make out the slight narrowing of Hutch's eyes as he recognized the jab about his attitude. Not taking the bait, Hutch instead took a particularly long drink. He placed the empty bottle gently on the floor.

"It isn't true, you know," Starsky said, trying another tactic. He'd be damned if he'd let Hutch get the upper hand. He'd had his chance earlier that night and forfeited. Now, it was Starsky's turn, and he fully intended to step up to the plate. Whether this was to be a hit or a walk remained to be seen, but he wasn't about to strike out.

Hutch looked up questioningly, in reaction to Starsky's statement.

"About what you deserve," Starsky clarified, alluding to the peculiar statement Hutch had made earlier. Starsky had thought about it while driving back from their encounter in the alley. Though he knew what Hutch meant, he didn't know why he thought about it that way. Why he thought about himself that way.

"You don't know–" Hutch sat upright, planting both feet solidly on the ground. The heel of his boot clipped the bottle sending it rolling under the seat, the sound loud and melodious before fading away.

"And I don't care!" Starsky said. Taking a step closer he tried to corner Hutch, invading his space and imposing his presence. "Whatever you've done before has got nothin' to do with me."

Hutch barked a short, painful laugh. "Starsky…"

"What I mean is, I'm here, right now. And though, only for the sake of not arguing with you, I'll agree that you barely deserve me, I damn well deserve you. You saying I don't? Think you're too good for me?" _Come on, Hutch. It's your turn now._

"Damn you, you followed me again when I told you not to push me. Now it's too late."

Hutch, Starsky realized, seemed finally ready to find out exactly what they both deserved.

Standing up, Hutch seized Starsky by the back of the neck and pulled him forward until the final touch of their lips was a mere formality. But Hutch didn't complete the long anticipated journey. Instead, he ducked his head until his lips rested on the skin just beneath Starsky's ear. And there he sucked.

Starsky, startled and maybe just a little bit disappointed, gasped as he reached for Hutch's shoulders to steady himself. His disappointment didn't last long. He tipped his chin, allowing Hutch access to the full column of his neck.

Hutch's hands found his upper arms and at first pulled them together before changing direction and pressing them both back against the wall. For the second time that night, Starsky found himself in this position, but now he was free. This is what they needed, what Hutch needed. To see that Starsky was free and still choosing this as the path he wished to travel.

His hands found Hutch's neck then, kneading there before gently guiding his partner to settle against the curves he somehow knew would fit well with his. He sighed his approval of their position. Or maybe it was from the sensations Hutch was creating along his nervous system. He had loved the feel of that big body against him earlier that night, and it was even better now as they both relaxed in the familiar setting of Hutch's apartment.

But relaxing was the last thing Starsky wanted to do. Hands back on Hutch's shoulders, he started to push the big blond off of him.

"No," Hutch protested.

"Hutch, I just wanna—"

"Just want to forget all this lo… stuff and get right to it? Huh? That what you want, Starsk? Or do you want me to stop?" Hutch found Starsky's neck again with his tongue, drawing a long line to his ear. "I don't know if I can do that."

"What I want is for you to let me get at you, too," Starsky managed to say. "But you gotta let me up a second."

Instead, Hutch fumbled with Starsky's hands, managing to raise them above his head. "I don't think I can wait that long," Hutch said as he dove in again.

Starsky gasped as he felt the small vessels in his neck break from Hutch's powerful sucking. He tried but couldn't protest. How would he explain the huge hickie on his neck when they next went in to work? Damn it, he'd have to fish out his turtleneck.

Hutch continued to hold both Starsky's wrists, one in each hand, pressing them against the wall, using his body to further keep Starsky in place. It wasn't a tight grip. It was meant to suggest more than demand that Starsky keep his hands out of the way.

Starsky wasn't about to move. He loved the strength emanating from Hutch.

"But I can't touch you."

"That's the point, I don't want you to. I may, I might…. I want this over when it's meant to be."

"Kiss me at least?" Starsky hated to sound like he was begging, but hell, he was begging. However, Hutch wasn't giving him a choice, trapping his hands and body.

The request stopped Hutch for a moment, though. Starsky felt the burn where his partner had been feasting on his neck, followed by the coolness of the evening air. Hutch seemed to welcome the break, perhaps not knowing what to do next in his seduction. Lowering his head, he rested against Starsky's breastbone, breathing heavily. He loosened his grip, joining their fingers, sliding their entwined hands down until they rested by Starsky's sides. Starsky took a deep breath as Hutch's weight eased up.

Suddenly Hutch raised his eyes.

Starsky straightened, anticipation making his mouth water.

"Your pants are wet," Hutch said accusingly.

"Yeah," Starsky whispered as Hutch's eyes lowered to his mouth.

But they didn't stop there. Instead they continued to slowly travel downward until they rested just below Starsky's belt. Starsky forced himself not to let his own eyes follow the same route. He knew what Hutch would see—a small damp spot on his jeans, where the head of his cock was unmercifully trapped.

Starsky groaned, partly in embarrassment and partly in need. Turning his head away from watching Hutch gaze at him, he thought about hiding or trying to distract Hutch to get him to focus elsewhere.

"I think it's beautiful," Hutch whispered. Leaning in close again, he pulled Starsky's ear lobe with his teeth before continuing. "It's what I want, and what you've been waiting for."

Distracted by everything Hutch was doing, Starsky found that both his wrists were now held at the small of his back in Hutch's large left hand.

With his right, Hutch trailed down Starsky's torso until he reached his belt. Using that one hand, he managed to undo Starsky's buckle, the loose ends clanging together as Hutch reached for the buttons of Starsky's jeans.

"Watch me," Hutch whispered again.

"I–"

"I mean it, Starsky. Watch what I'm going to do to make you feel good."

Feeling Hutch's eyes on him, Starsky turned back to his partner; Starsky felt shy, yet he wanted to know exactly what Hutch was going to do, how he was going to intensify this already mind-blowing experience. It was already overwhelming him and they had only done a little necking. Hell, he had yet to really touch Hutch. And they were still both completely dressed. Starsky knew that was about to change, and it seemed he was going first.

Looking down, Hutch had only undone the top buttons of Starsky's fly. Already, it was offering Starsky much needed relief. Of course, the small stain on his jeans was even more pronounced on his red briefs.

Hutch's hand hovered above the briefs, obviously wanting to touch but waiting for some reason.

"Hutch!" Starsky said desperately.

With two fingers, Hutch finally touched the head of Starsky’s cock. He pressed his fingertips there before moving them in slow circles over the fabric.

The friction set Starsky on fire and he moaned, trusting his hips upward, unable to help himself, not wanting to help himself, wanting Hutch to help him instead. But Hutch kept the force light, anticipating Starsky's moves and not letting the pressure increase.

Twisting right then left, trying anything to heighten the sensation, Starsky finally gave up when he felt one of Hutch's knees move firmly between his slightly spread legs. He sagged against the wall, panting.

Hutch let him go, quickly pulling open the few remaining fastened buttons. Starsky watched, fascinated as Hutch gently lowered the elastic waistband of his briefs so only the head of his cock was exposed.

"I love your cut cock," Hutch mumbled, hovering again with his hand, seeming to measure and outline the still hidden form. "The shape and feel of it in my mouth...."

"You've never—"

The look Hutch gave him made him stop.

"But I've dreamed."

At Hutch's arousing words, a drop of pre-come appeared. Starsky couldn't help grimacing at his inability to control his body. They both looked down at the taut and rosy head now glistening in the dim light.

Hutch caught and held his breath before letting out a strangled cry and dropping to his knees. With the tip of his tongue, he caught the semi-sticky fluid, swirling it around the tip before pulling back a few inches, forming a thin string that stretched between them. Not wasting any more time, Hutch ran his tongue over his lips once, wetting them, breaking the connection, but creating a new one by engulfing the weeping cock in his mouth.

"Oh, God, Hutch," Starsky cried. His hands found Hutch's hair, grabbing at the fine strands, straining against the sudden warmth and wetness. Resuming their thrusting motion, Starsky's hips moved of their own accord. Starsky couldn't stop, he just couldn't. He couldn't hold back, he couldn't slow down. Instinct took over. Starsky's world started and stopped with the sweet sucking Hutch was giving him.

"Hutch, Hutch, Hutch…" Starsky chanted.  It wouldn't last, couldn't last. He'd die before much longer. He'd go crazy. "It's gonna happen, Hutch," Starsky warned. "It's gonna… I'm gonna come!"

Then Starsky found himself suddenly at the peak of sensation. _No!_ He'd wanted this to last so much longer. So, so much longer. The overwhelming moment out of time engulfed him, causing him to struggle to hold on. He couldn't bear to let go of Hutch and watch him turn away from him again as he had in the alley.

"No!" Starsky finally yelled out as he came. His hips kept pumping, finally slowing down as he felt the force of Hutch's sucking abate. His hands rested against Hutch's jaw, circling and massaging the muscles that had worked him over so well. Hutch's mouth was the sweetest place he'd ever been and Starsky wanted to give Hutch more, but even standing up was a struggle. After the best orgasm in his life, it was all he could do to not slump to the floor, a big pile of worn out muscle and bone.

With all the effort he could muster, he stood upright and opened his eyes.

And found himself being turned around and pressed up against the wall, face first, this time.  His hands were placed above his head. It took a moment for his foggy mind to realize what this position could mean. Hutch's weight was against him once more and even from the back, or maybe especially from the back, they fit comfortably together once again.

"Did you watch me?" Hutch was saying in his ear. "Did you see me swallow it all and lick my lips to make sure I got every drop?"

"You've got to be kidding," Starsky groaned. Why did he not anticipate that Hutch might possibly talk like this? Surely, one of the girls they'd both dated would have mentioned it.

"With your back to me, I'd never consider kidding. Your ass is enough of a tease."

Hutch finally let go of Starsky's hands, moving his own palms to just under Starsky's armpits. He stroked Starsky up and down, feeling him before finally resting his hands at Starsky's waist. Hutch dug his thumbs into the sensitive area on either side of Starsky's spine, manipulating his muscles, encouraging them to loosen.

Starsky could have almost fallen asleep. Almost. But the abrupt realization that he could feel the hard curve of Hutch's cock pressing against him sharpened his senses. His nervousness swelled to the surface when he felt Hutch lower Starsky's pants and briefs to rest at the top of his thighs, just under the curves of his ass, exposing him completely. 

"W-what's happening next?" Starsky turned his head, hoping to catch a glimpse of something, anything, behind his shoulder.

Instead, he felt Hutch's knee placed once again between his legs, spreading them. Hutch leaned back, keeping a hand on Starsky's shoulder, holding him against the wall.

Everything was quiet, still. Even the traffic outside seemed to stop and listen to the stillness. Finally, Hutch let out a sigh and Starsky thought he felt a feather light touch run from the top to the bottom of his right cheek.

Then he did feel it as Hutch touched him, mapping out the contours and curves of this particular part of Starsky's anatomy.  Starsky melted into the wall, bringing his arms down to give him some leverage as he squirmed, gently thrusting and following Hutch's groping. It was part massage, part worship.

Was it part love?

Just as he was about to ask, the hand at his shoulder was back and he heard Hutch work his own buckle, snap, and zipper. It was sexy not knowing what was going to happen next; it was damn frustrating not being able to give much back. He wasn't used to making love this way.

Love?

Next time, Starsky was going to be the seducer.

Craning his head around one more time, he was finally able to see Hutch free his large, dusky cock. Starsky squeezed his eyes shut, not believing Hutch was finally sharing everything with him. It was all he'd wished for; he felt almost giddy with happiness. Opening his eyes again, he caught Hutch looking at him.

"Second thoughts?" Hutch asked.

"No, no way. It's just that after feeling that monster for the last minute, I wanted to see him for myself."

Starsky turned back to the wall, waiting for whatever was about to happen. Surely, doing it the first time standing up wasn't a good idea?

A large drop of moisture hit the sensitive area of his low back. Starsky sucked in a breath as the cool wetness created a tickling sensation as it rolled down his hot skin. It was soon followed by another. Starsky realized that Hutch using saliva for lubrication. He shivered.

"So perfect," Hutch said rubbing the liquid up and down  Starsky's crack, adding more, making the area good and wet. His fingers came oh so close, but never actually made contact with the ring of muscle hidden there.

It was then that Starsky realized Hutch didn't intend to penetrate him, but was going to rub off against him instead. Finally, Hutch's hands spread Starsky's cheeks wide. Hutch waited a beat before he at last sank his cock deep into Starsky's wet crevice. Then he started to move.

"God, you feel good, babe. So good," Hutch managed to say between labored breaths.

Starsky could feel Hutch squeezing his buttocks close together, making a channel for Hutch to slide his cock along. Pushing his ass backward, he attempted to help Hutch, to increase the sensations as much as he could. He didn't think rubbing up against his rear could be nearly as good as the blow job Hutch had given him, but if this was what Hutch wanted, he'd try his best to make it the best frottage he'd ever had.

Behind him, Hutch indeed seemed to be enjoying the ride. He was grunting and panting, calling Starsky's name, constantly moving his hips and body, pressing against Starsky, then gathering him up in his arms. He ran his fingers through Starsky's dense curls, pushing his head forward, then pulling it back to kiss Starsky's neck once more.

"Hutch, you move me so good," Starsky said. "Tell me if there's something more I can do for you." He ventured to move one hand back to grab Hutch's hip, to help guide him forward with even more thrusting power.

The feel of that hard cock moving and moving along his sensitized skin enflamed Starsky's nerves. The bulk was so foreign, the movement from all the wrong angles, it was wrong and so right. It was the most exciting thing Starsky could ever remember experiencing.

And every so often Hutch allowed his cock to sink low, to the point where the head would ride over Starsky's anus.

Starsky pushed back harder, wanting to increase the incredible sensation.

There was a moment of pain as Hutch sank his teeth into the tender skin of Starsky's shoulder. And then he was coming, Starsky knew. The wetness he felt a moment later confirmed it. He was a little disappointed Hutch didn't cry out his pleasure. Holding back seemed to really cost Hutch; he was breathing heavily, great puffs of air lifting the hair from Starsky's neck.

Before he could turn around, Hutch was pushing away from him. He fell back and landed hard, the chaise creaking with his sudden weight. Hutch was still breathing heavily.

Starsky turned, astonished to see Hutch trying to close his zipper over his still hard cock. Falling on his knees in front of Hutch beside the chaise, he put his hands out to stop him.

"Look at me, babe, please."

Hutch did, though a bit reluctantly, an expression of doom settling over his fair features.

Inspiration struck Starsky just then. He reached around to rescue some of the come Hutch had left on his back. Bringing his fingers forward, he put them in his mouth, sucking and licking them.

Hutch watched fascinated.

"Can I have my kiss now?" Starsky begged again.

Lunging forward into Starsky's waiting arms, Hutch came to him. Starsky opened his mouth, breathing Hutch in, tasting him, pulling on his lips, making sure Hutch could feel Starsky give all of himself. And the kiss went on. He wasn't surprised. Hutch may have thought at one time he wasn't, or wouldn't be, a good kisser, but he'd never had such thoughts about Hutch.

"You taste just like Hutch," Starsky said.

"Starsky…" Hutch nipped his nose.

Starsky captured his lips again, wanting to make sure he'd sampled all of Hutch's face. "You forget to shave today, partner? Feeling mighty scratchy up here." He ran a tongue along Hutch's upper lip.

"Thought maybe I'd grow a mustache," Hutch answered. Smoothing back some curls and running fingers over Starsky's eyebrows, his expression was only marginally better from when the kiss had started.

"I loved being with you, Hutch," Starsky blurted. "I want to do this again, as much as we want."

Hutch frowned. "What part did you like best? When I was holding you in place making you take it or when you screamed 'no,' and I didn't listen."

"What?" Starsky said, utterly confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on, Starsky."

Starsky finally had enough of all their misunderstandings. It seemed every look, every word, and every action that evening had been turned and twisted around in Hutch's mind until he'd convinced himself that Starsky hated every second of this.

Grabbing his partner by the sides of his face to guarantee he had Hutch's full and undivided attention, Starsky met Hutch's sad, pale, blue eyes. "What I mean, you big dumb blond, is that we're going to find time to explore this. Now that we’re both ready, and we are both ready, there's no time like now. Not a year from now, but now. It doesn't always have to be…be this intense."

"Why?"

"Why what? Why do I want more or why do I put up with you?"

"I don't think this is funny."

"It was the single most overwhelming encounter I've ever had in my entire life," Starsky said. "That's why."  

"It was for me, too," Hutch finally admitted.

"I'm glad, babe. So glad," Starsky soothed. "And don't we both deserve to have the best? You just as much as me and visa versa? And I think time and practice will make every time just a great as today. Don't you?"

"Time only for us, huh?"

"Yeah, us. Don't you know you've always been more than just a friend or a police partner to me? Maybe you're even my partner, for real. What would you think about that?" He gave Hutch only a second to reply and when no words were forthcoming, he took what he really wanted, another engrossing kiss.

Starsky guided them as they climbed back onto the chaise, nestling himself against Hutch, living in the moment.

"Love you, Starsk," Hutch said, at last taking a breather.

"Love you too, Hutch." Finally, Starsky could see happiness dawn in his partner's eyes.

"Will you kiss me again?" Hutch asked.

"Anytime, partner. You just need to ask."

Then Hutch smiled.

 

 


End file.
